Helena’s entire body was trembling; she was very close to tears. “Please, Etienne,” she
said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “My father and I need you.”
The Duke’s left hand clenched, and he stared silently at the woman before him for almost
a minute before he replied. “You haven’t heard, then?”
“Heard what?” Helena could scarcely choke the words out of her mouth, it was so dry
with horrible premonition. “Oh, my poor girl. Your father was executed two days ago on
a charge of treason.”
Chapter 7
Revelation
The killers impersonating Agents Wombat and Periwinkle carried the unconscious bodies
of Jules and Yvonne d’Alembert to their waiting copier, where their confederates helped
them stow the SOTE agents away in the back cargo section. The DesPlainians had been
given a number four stun, and would be unconscious for at least two hours, which would
give the killers plenty of time to take them to more secure quarters.
Several kilometers away, Pias and Yvette were monitoring events as they happened.
Knowing they’d be walking into a trap and assuming they’d be captured, Jules and
Vonnie had planted microtransmitters on their clothes and bodies. These devices enabled
the Bavols to follow the action-at least what could be heard of it from a safe distance,
and to trail after the killers without coming close enough to be spotted themselves. “We
want to make sure we get the whole gang at once,” Jules had said. “With Vonnie and me
as bait on the hook, we’ll give them a little play on the line before reeling them in.
Yvette was not happy with the thought of standing idly by and listening to her brother and
sister-in-law be captured by the enemy-but, like her brother, she wanted to grab the
whole gang in one sweep. If they acted too quickly, some might escape to spread the
warning further up the network. This move had obviously been planned by someone
higher up within the conspiracy; a little patience might lead them to big game indeed.
The Bavols listened to the confused mixture of sounds that were the obvious indications
of a battle in progress. The buzzing sound of stun-guns was ominous, because neither
Jules nor Yvonne had carried stunners into the battle. The silence that followed made it
only too clear that the enemy had gained the upper hand. Even though this was part of
their long-term plan, Yvette’s fists were clenched in quiet anger.
As the killers’ copier left the clearing, the Bavols’ vehicle rose into the air and followed.
The signals broadcast by the microtransmitters were strong enough for the agents to
stay far behind their prey, out of both visual and normal detector range. The two copiers
flew at a steady, casual pace toward the nearest domed city, Constantia.
The enemy copier landed on the rooftop parking lot of an apartment building. The Bavols
made a note of the site and flew on to a nearby perch. They listened and waited. That
was the hard part-the waiting.
Within the target building, the enemy agents had rented an entire floor for themselves.
After searching their captives for weapons-but missing the transmitters, which looked like
ordinary buttons-they handcuffed the d’Alemberts’ hands behind their backs and went
about their normal business until the two superagents recovered from the stun they’d
received.
After a while, Jules started coming around. Reality weaved in and out of focus for him
and his surroundings gradually became more distinct. When he could recall what had
happened, he looked around him. He was in a bedroom, but his body had been dumped
on the floor. Vonnie lay on the floor across the room from him, still unconscious;
stun-guns had slightly differing effects on different people’s nervous systems, and Vonnie
was apparently more susceptible. Jules was not going to worry about her yet.
As Jules looked around further, he could see someone sitting on the bed watching him:
the woman who’d come out of the copier. She eyed him coolly for a moment, then called
into the next room, “The man’s come to.”
A man came into the room–not the one Jules had seen in the clearing. This must have
been one of the people waiting in the copier to complete the ambush. It scarcely
mattered; this man looked every bit as competent as the one Jules had seen.
The man knelt beside Jules and checked for any residual traces of shock from the
stunner. When he was satisfied Jules was all right, he turned to the woman and said,
“Call the battle station. I think he’s ready to talk now.”
The woman went into another room and Jules, by straining, could just make out the
sounds of a subetheric communicator being adjusted. There was a muffled dialog he
couldn’t quite hear, and then the woman returned. “She’s ready for him.”
The man grabbed Jules roughly by the shirtfront and pulled him to his feet. “In there,
Wombat,” he sneered, giving Jules a hard shove in the general direction of the adjoining
room. Jules’s legs were still a little wobbly from the after-effects of the stun. He
staggered a bit, provoking laughs from the two killers.
“Some superagent,” the woman taunted. “He can’t even walk straight.”
With monumental effort, Jules fought to recover his balance and walked with dignity
through the doorway into the next room. His action did not stop the jeering of the traitors,
but it at least satisfied his own sense of honor. Another woman he hadn’t seen was
standing beside a portable subcom set. In the set’s triscreen was the three-dimensional
image of someone Jules had seen and worked against before: Tanya Boros, erstwhile
Duchess of Swingleton and daughter of Banian the Bastard.
She obviously recognized him, too, because her eyes narrowed slightly and her face took
on a colder expression. “Well, well,” she said. “Who are you supposed to be this month?
Shall I call you duClos or Brecht?”
“I think today I’ll be Rene Descartes,” Jules retorted. His tongue felt thick and heavy as
an aftereffect of the stun, and it slurred his speech a little more than he’d have liked. He
hated showing any weakness in front of this proud, beautiful woman.
Boros did not like his impudent answer. Rage flashed momentarily across her face. Her
temper was always her weak point, Jules knew, but now she was making some effort to
moderate it. After a brief struggle she returned her expression to one of bland
superiority. “I think I’ll just call you Wombat for now,” she said. “From what I’ve been told
it’s a rather ugly, awkward animal-quite fitting for someone like you.”
“Is that why you tried to seduce me several years ago?” Boros refused to be baited. “I
was bored and looking for new perversions. Believe me, you’ll never get an offer that
generous again in your lifetime. And if you want that lifetime extended to any degree,
you’ll cooperate and answer a few questions.”
“I never deal with the hired help.”
“Oh, you can ignore those people holding you prisoner. I’ll do the interrogation.”
“That’s just who I meant. You’re not important enough for me to deal with. Lady A’s
running this show, so she can question me herself.”
Once again he’d touched off a spark of anger in the young woman. “Do you think she has
time to drop everything for a kulyak like you? I’m in charge of this operation, and you’ll do
what I tell you. I’m going to get information out of you. I can get it painfully or pleasantly,
the choice is entirely your own.”
“How can I respect someone who won’t even face me in person?”
“Why should I take the risk? I’m safe in my battle station. You’ve never told me the truth
when we’ve met in person before, so I have nothing to lose by remaining where I am. My
surrogates there will administer all the persuasion you require; my only regret is that I
won’t be able to do to you myself what needs to be done. They’ll call me back when
you’re loosened up a bit.” Her image reached out to touch an unseen control, and the
screen went blank.
Jules had gotten far more information than he’d given in that conversation. He now knew
the extent of this impersonation scheme: Tanya Boros in charge and these four
blasterbats carrying out her instructions. A small but efficient operation. Boros herself
was safely ensconced in something she called a battle station, and was not about to be
lured out of it. He had accomplished all that could be accomplished from this position. It
was now time to get himself and Vonnie rescued.
The woman beside the subcom set had a truncheon in her hand and was slapping it
gently against her other palm. She eyed Jules with a sadistic gleam. “We drew lots to
see who’d question you first,” she said. “I won.”
“Surely there must be some alternative,” Jules said.
“You could tell me all about yourself. If I believe you, I might go easy.”